


Stupid Names

by ShepardCommander



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 03:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShepardCommander/pseuds/ShepardCommander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The alcohol was really beginning to get to her, temper rising for no good reason. She was above such petty insults and Edward was above giving them—usually—but the poison had taken hold of them both and she was beginning to lose her wits. "Then it's a good thing it's mah name to use and not yers."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stupid Names

 

Nassau had been in celebration when Mary Read, more commonly known as James Kidd, had arrived. She hadn’t known what they were celebrating—though she supposed it didn’t matter—the beach filled near to capacity with pirates, barmaids, rum, and just about everything else one could assort with such a lawless bunch.

It had been a welcome sight, a calming scene despite the chaos dancing around her in various forms of debauchery, and it hadn’t taken long for her to find herself once again at home among her pirate brethren. The singing, the dancing, the drinking, the occasional brawl…these things were hers, symbols of her freedom.

She had moved through the gathering unnoticed, keeping to herself as her comrades partook in the festivities, wanting to preserve the image in her mind for all time. It was all something special, something sacred, something fragile.

There had been warmth in her eyes, a sort of love for all the men and women on the island, as she had sidestepped two sloshed combatants, a crowd quickly forming a ring of observation around the two. One of the men had been crying about his mum’s honor, the other goading him on as he swung a sloppy fist.

The mass of people had been jeering and cheering, placing bets as the two had missed each other again and again, both too full of drink to do much about the other.

She really should have stopped it, stepped in to prevent the two from embarrassing themselves any further, but she had been unable to. No, instead she had remained a quiet observer, a ghost. She hadn’t wanted to disturb those surrounding her, had for once just wanted to breathe it all in and forget that she was an Assassin, a woman guarding a secret fiercely, a person with a set of morals that was ill befitting for what she claimed to be.

A twinge of sadness had clogged her throat, arms tightening around her chest as her eyes had grown soft and distant.

Her life had never been easy or simple. Each turn she had taken in the path of life leading her to more misery and sorrow. She’d always had to conceal who she was, had to say goodbye far too soon.

The sudden collapse of the pirates had dragged her out of her musings, both unscathed but clinging to their heads as their brains pounded away relentlessly at the confines of their respective skulls. The crowd had slowly dispersed once it had become apparent that neither one was getting up, many a disappointed better in the crowd.

She had smiled and moved on as well, intent on enjoying what she had fought, bled, and killed for.

What was the use of being sad? Of thinking of what she had lost?

No long after that a certain blue eyed, blonde haired, Assassin impersonator to find her. Word traveled fast through the small republic, someone having spotted her despite her efforts to blend in unseen. Then again, she had been the only one sober and not making a ruckus of some sort, something that was out of the ordinary on a day of celebration.

When he had found her, he’d greeted her with joy and clarity, his mind still relatively yet untouched by the poison of alcohol. He had whisked her away, not caring that someone may question his overenthusiasm in his greeting, and asked her questions about how she was, where she had been, who had she killed, and whether or not Ah Tabai was still mad at him.

The moon was out now, many hours having passed, many of the participants having retreated to shelter to sleep off their drunken stupor. All except the hardiest had fought to stay awake well into the night, determined to not let the spirit of revelry go. She and the blue eyed, blonde haired Assassin were two of the people.

“Will you marry me?”

Mary raised a scarred eyebrow and stared as Edward—the blue eyed, blonde haired Assassin impersonator—carefully regarded his bottle of rum. He was fighting to keep his gaze on the liquid, a light red flush painting his cheeks that she wasn’t sure was from the drink or the question he’d just asked.

Her own bottle was halfway to her lips, mind just on the verge of fuzzing over. Even in her slightly addled state she possessed enough sense to keep her true identity a secret, and with a quick glance at the pirates to assure herself that they were either drunk beyond all measure or unconscious, she decided to humor the man.

“Aren’t yah already married?” she questioned with a small quirk of her lips. She took a sip, curious as to what had sparked this conversation.

“Married? You…you mean Caroline?” Edward hiccupped, the sound coming out of his lips halfway between a sob and a laugh. “She’s…prob…probably found a better bloke…by now…don’t…don’t you think so?”

Mary fought a smile, keeping it contained just long enough for her to cover her mouth with her rum bottle to take another drink. “Aye.”

“Hey!” the drunken pirate sneered, spilling the contents of his bottle over himself and the sand as he gestured at her roughly. “Y…you’re ‘spose to be on _my_ side.” He waved his drink around in a sloppy circle. “Tell me…tell me everythin’ is gon be alright.”

“Ah respect yah too much to lie to yah,” she said. “Even if yah are drunk out of yah mind.”

“I am _not_ drunk.” Edward snorted, took another drink. He hunkered down, peering up at her. The fire that separated the two of them must have been hot on his face, but he didn’t seem to mind, even scooted himself closer to it. “But jus…jus pretend with me…if…if Caroline found someone else…would you marry me?”

“Don’t yah think that the others would find that odd?” she pressed. “Yah marryin’ me? Ah’m a young lad to them, remember?”

Edward scoffed and waved his free hand in dismissal. “To hell with the whole lot of ‘em. I don’t care.”

“Come on, yah don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do.”

Mary looked at him sternly. “Yah care about the others—Thatch, Vane, Hornigold. Don’t pretend like yah don’t. Ah know yah by now.”

Edward groaned, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean that I didn’t _care_ -care about them. It’s just…I don’t care what they think. About you. And me. You and me specifically. Together.”

“That so?” Mary asked, taking another drink.

He nodded earnestly, blonde strands falling loose of their tie. “Aye.” He smiled slightly and Mary grew suspicious.

“What?” she asked.

“Wha…what you said.” He went to take another drink, realized his bottle was empty, chucked it, and picked up another. He turned it over in his hands, the coolness a sweet relief against his warm, sweaty palms. “You know me.”

“That Ah do,” she admitted, not sure where he was going with it. “What of it?”

“You’re the only one that does.” The sentence ended with a wistful sigh, the loneliness and longing the rough and tough man had been hiding all his life breaking through his defenses.

Mary opened her mouth, closed it. Frowning, she looked at her own bottle of rum before setting it down on the sand beside the log on which she sat. She threaded her hands together, the muscles in her face fighting to stay a careful neutral.

Edward was a strong man, one of the strongest she had ever come across. She didn’t mean it in a physical sense—although it was also probably true—but a mental one. He was sure in himself and his actions, a trait that was both admirable and the one that would eventually doom him if he didn’t change his ways. To see him like this…disheveled…disheartened…

It was flattering and sad, beautiful yet terrifying. She knew that he was only opening up like this because it was just the two of them, because he trusted her. She had a piece of him that no one else did, not even his wife. He would never voice his inner thoughts and insecurities to anyone else, never tell them that he doubted his actions sometimes or was plagued with cases of “what ifs”. To everyone else he had to appear strong, had to appear that he was only in the game for profit and glory.

She was the only one that knew he had a heart, that knew that beneath his bravado was a man that cared and worried, a soul that was torn between its own selfish desires and its inevitable destiny.

Silence reigned supreme for a good long twenty minutes, Mary staring into the fire and Edward blinking rapidly, struggling to keep her in focus. By the time they spoke again he had gone through three more bottles.

“Our children will be beautiful.”

Mary’s eyebrows shot up. “Our…! Edward, have yah lost yah mind?”

The pirate pursed his lips. “’Ave not. Just sayin’….” He ran an eye over her then pointed to himself. “Wouldn’t matter if they’re a girl or boy ‘cuz yer damn good lookin’ as either.” He grinned. “An’ I’m a ‘andsome devil.”

“In yah dreams.”

“You wound me!” he said, feigning insult. He opened his arms in a spread eagle manner, rum bottle flinging carelessly out of his loose fingers. “I am the epi…pito…pome…tep” He blinked and shook his head, trying to clear it. “I am _man_.”

“Yes, yah are,” she responded dryly. “A very drunk one.”

“Jus’ a ‘ittle ‘ipsy.” He wagged a finger. “Das all.”

“Whatever yah say.” The Pirate Assassin rolled her eyes, reaching down to pick up her bottle and take another drink.

“So…” he slurred, shifting his seat so that he was even closer to the flames. Mary wondered how he hadn’t caught on fire already. “Whas we namin’ da kids?”

“Yah not going to let this go, are yah?”

He grinned sloppily. “Nope.”

She sighed, setting her drink down again. The blue eyed pirate watched her closely as she puffed her cheeks and set her elbows on her knees, leaning forward.

An answer to him she did not owe, but for some reason she felt compelled to give him one. Maybe it was the rum, maybe it was something else. She didn’t know.

“I’ve always liked the name Haytham,” she admitted quietly.

Edward frowned. “Haytham. _Hay_ tham. Hay _tham_ ,” he repeated, trying the name out on his tongue. “Thassa….thassa…that’s a….” His burped, wincing before finally getting out, “That’s a _stupid_ name.”

Mary blinked once, twice. The alcohol was really beginning to get to her, temper rising for no good reason. She was above such petty insults and Edward was above giving them—usually—but the poison had taken hold of them both and she was beginning to lose her wits. “Then it’s a good thing it’s _mah_ name to use and not _yers_.”

“You can’t own a name!” Edward exclaimed. “That’s…” He blinked, licking his lips as he fought through the drunken haze to find the right word. “…ridikkilus.”

“Is not!” Mary protested vehemently with a sharp nod of her head. She stood up, what was left of the bottle of rum draining onto the sandas she tipped it over accidentally with her foot. “Yah said it was stupid! Yah lost all rights to it!” She snorted. “Ah’ll name _mah_ son Haytham.”

“But what if it’s _my_ son?” Edward insisted.

Mary snorted again, bent down to grab another bottle, used her teeth to yank off the cork, and took a drink. “Name yah son somethin’ else. Name ‘im James for all Ah care.”

“No that’s not…that’s not what I meant.” The blonde rogue shoke his head, wincing as his brain protested his abuse. “I meant…that there’s no way on Earth… you’ll be naming _our_ son that.”

“Then it’s a good thing we won’t be havin’ a son!”

Edward opened his mouth, lower lip trembling, before clamping it shut and furrowing his bushy eyebrows, blue eyes flashing with annoyance. His cheeks muscles twitched and it was obvious he was restraining himself from saying something incredibly stupid.

“ _Fine_ ,” he spat after a minute, struggling to his feet. “I don’t _want_ your stupid names anyway!...” He took a step forward and stumbled two back, nearly falling over the log he’d been using as a bench. “James…Mary…Edward…Haytham…they’re all yours!”

“Edward is _yer_ name, Edward,” Mary replied coolly, a playful gleam in her eye.

Edward’s mouth flapped open and closed several times before he managed to get out, “ _Bah!_ ” He stormed off—albeit a bit unevenly—tripping over a pebble and falling face first into a pile of leaves.

Mary sighed and shook her head, moving to get up and help him. “Ah’m too good to yah” she muttered under her breath, following the crooked line he had traipsed through the sand. “Should leave yah there till morn. Teach yah not to drink so much and talk about things that can never be.”

He was moaning, nearly having fallen asleep in the short time it had taken her to get to his pile of leaves. She knelt beside him, exhaling heavily, and ran a hand through his matted locks to make sure that he hadn’t bumped his head on a rock. When she was certain that there were no unusual lumps, she rolled him over and grabbed an arm, grunting as she pulled.

“Y’know…” Edward murmured as Mary lugged him to his feet. “I…would name all my sons ‘n daughters Haytham if it would make you happy.”

She smiled sadly to herself, fighting the urge to vomit as the stench of a day’s worth of drinking rolled off his tongue.

“Ah know Kenway…Ah know.”


End file.
